Finding C Major
by Cyseria
Summary: Hayato Gokudera didn't expect a weirdo in an orange dress named Tsunayoshi Sawada to pop into his life… repeatedly. However, looking back on it, this was probably one of the best things to ever happen to him. Semi-AU. Fem!Tsuna. Eventual 5927
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Hayato Gokudera didn't expect a weirdo in an orange dress named Tsunayoshi Sawada to pop into his life… repeatedly. However, looking back on it, this was probably one of the best things to ever happen to him. Semi-AU. Fem!Tsuna. Eventual 5927

 **Finding C Major**

1

. .

* * *

Apathetic jade eyes scanned the crowd, taking in each face and occasionally lingering on those they recognized before moving on. Around the large ballroom, people milled about, low lighting from wall sconces and chandeliers lending itself to creating a warm, social atmosphere. The low buzz of polite conversation and quiet laughter filled the room. Hayato Gokudera took a sip from his water glass and quietly snorted as a large woman wearing an obnoxiously gaudy dress walked past his hiding spot in the corner.

His father became a major sponsor for a recital featuring up-and-coming young musical talent from across Europe. Of course, since his son was considered a piano prodigy, Hayato found himself added to the roster of participants, performing alongside other children hailing from England to Russia.

When the day of the recital came, his sister, Bianchi, gave him some cookies, as usual. And, as usual, he was forced to eat them. Despite the nausea and disorientation, Hayato performed his piece to the best of his abilities. As the last chord lingered in the air, enthusiastic clapping rose from the audience.

Idiots, the lot of them. Hayato knew his performance sounded like shit.

A reception followed the recital and his father dragged him along, showing Hayato off to those he mingled with. During the experience, Hayato felt like an exotic bird; he was paraded around, shown off like some strange and captivating animal, then ignored once the fascination wore off. Eventually, he was able to sneak away and find a corner to hide in until either the event ended, or his father found him again.

Hayato hoped for the former.

A woman with long, pale hair glided past Hayato's corner and he briefly felt a pang of sorrow. Bright, kind, verdant eyes of a similar shade to his own filled Hayato's thoughts. Miss Lavina would have been so proud to see him on stage performing for an audience, even if she would have cringed at how badly mangled the piece sounded. Some days, when he sat at the piano to practice, Hayato closed his eyes and imagined Miss Lavina sitting next to him, whispering encouragement and praise into his ears. When he opened his eyes, taking in the empty room, he was forced to accept the whispers as nothing more than his imagination.

Although she had been dead for years now, Hayato still sometimes wondered what life would be like if she wasn't gone.

A tug on his shirt sleeve snapped Hayato out of his thoughts. Warm brown eyes and a smile exuding more warmth than the sun filled his vision. A girl who looked to be his age stood in front of him. She shifted on her feet and her orange dress followed the movement, its hem brushing against her knees. Hayato didn't recognize her as a one of the other performers, so she was probably in the audience watching the recital.

Then again, he didn't remember any of his fellow performers, so, for all he knew, she could have been on stage too.

"Hello," the girl extended her hand and he absently shook it as she asked, "are you Hayato Gokudera?" Her voice was a bit quiet and, when Hayato looked closer, her smile was slightly tense.

His eyes narrowed. Why would this random girl be asking for him? "What of it?"

Hayato watched as her shoulders relaxed and her ramrod-straight spine lost its stiffness. "I watched your performance," she started.

Oh. The performance. "Let me guess," Hayato sarcastically drawled, "you thought it was 'so artistic'", he began making air quotes, "or 'absolutely inspired', right?"

Her answer surprised him. In a quiet voice, yet filled with enough steel and determination to match the blazing fire of surety in her eyes, she uttered, "I really liked your performance. Although I don't understand the finer points of piano music, I could _hear_ the emotion you put into the song. I thought you poured your heart and soul into those keys and into your music. You love playing the piano, so don't degrade any of the music that comes from your heart".

What. The. Fuck.

Hayato gaped at her. After a few seconds, he managed to pull himself together. "You don't even know me, so don't say things like that! How could you judge whether I 'play the piano with my heart'? You're reading too far into it," he sputtered indignantly.

She stared at him, her caramel eyes pensive. Then her face softened and she was back to being the quiet girl from a few moments ago. The girl gave him a sheepish smile and scratched the back of her head, ruffling short, fluffy brown hair. "Sorry about that. Maybe I jumped to conclusions. You seemed like you didn't like your performance, so I had to say what I thought about it." She glanced away, her cheeks starting to redden slightly in the dimmed light of the ballroom. "Erm… I hope I didn't offend you."

Hayato took a sip of his water, his annoyance cooling, and mulled over what she said. He sighed. On the contrary, he wasn't really offended at all.

Most of the people he talked to praised his piano performances as being "abstract" or "modern", absolutely loving how "unique" his music sounded. Hayato, on the other hand, felt sick—almost as sick as he was after eating Bianchi's cooking—when he heard compliment after compliment being heaped on, in his opinion, substandard performances. Hayato truly loved the piano and he loved to play it. He would much rather be getting the same praise for performances when he's not near vomiting on stage. He wanted the audience to cheer for pieces he poured all his attention and concentration into making sure they were _perfect_ and something _Miss Lavina would be proud of_.

So, when this random girl came up to him and started spouting about how she liked _the music he played from his heart_.

Well.

"It's fine," he told her, watching as brown eyes lit up, "you didn't offend me. Your words were just a bit unexpected and forward."

She nervously chuckled. "Oops?"

Hayato rolled his eyes and took a sip of water.

The girl straightened up, looked Hayato in the eyes, and stuck a hand out. "Do you think we can restart the introduction again?"

He looked at the hand, glanced at the girl's face, then shrugged. Why not. Hayato grasped her hand and shook it. "You already know this, but my name's Hayato Gokudera and I played the piano earlier today. I thought my performance could have been better."

"I think I forgot to introduce myself earlier. My name is Tsunayoshi Sawada, but I like to go by Tsuna."

In the back of Hayato's mind, bells started to go off. The name sounded a bit familiar, like he had heard it in a passing conversation. When he tried to follow the thought and figure out why, he lost it. Oh well, maybe it wasn't important. Her beaming smile highlighted warm chocolate eyes and Hayato tucked the name away in his mind.

He cleared his throat. "So, there were many other seven-year-olds playing the piano. Why did you want to talk to _me_? Surely you didn't come over this corner just to say you liked my crappy playing." Hayato raised his glass to his lips.

Tsuna blushed and played with the hem of her skirt. "Actually, that was part of the reason. I liked your song and I wanted to meet you afterwards," she paused and swallowed, clenching her fists at her side before looking up, eyes holding a spark of the same resolve he witnessed earlier, "but I also wanted to tell you I'm going to learn to play the piano. Everyone looked like they were having fun on stage, so I want to be able to play too. Then I thought it might be more fun to play with another person; I've heard there's such a thing as piano duets, so when I get to be good enough maybe we can both do a duet together."

Hayato almost choked on his water. This girl needed to stop surprising him.

She tilted her head and blinked her wide brown eyes. "What do you think?"

What did he think? He thought this girl might be a little crazy; normal people don't just randomly decide to learn the piano because it looks fun and then expect to be good enough to perform a duet. And _why_ did she want to tell himthis? Maybe she had already wanted to learn to play the piano before watching the recital, but Hayato had the impression that this was a spontaneous decision.

"You're crazy. Learning to play the piano takes a lot of time and dedication; you won't become a great pianist overnight. You will probably struggle with it in the beginning, and you might want to give up and quit. I've been practicing for _years_ and I'm still not nearly as good as other pianists I've heard. I'm not going to accept some crappy excuse of wanting to learn because 'it seems fun' or 'to play a duet'."

Hayato paused and let his words sink in before asking,

"Why do you _really_ want to learn?"

She deflated, eyes falling to the floor. Her voice was a near whisper, "most of the people on stage looked like they enjoyed playing the piano and I wondered how a simple instrument could make people seem so happy." Her voice gradually grew louder with every word, "I asked my papa and he said that it's because they like sharing their music with others. As I listened, I thought I began to understand."

Hayato saw her look up and a soft smile curled at her lips.

"Then you came out. At first, I thought you were scared; you looked so sick under the lights—"

Because he _was_ sick.

"—but then your fingers touched the keys. Sure, the music sounded a bit odd," Hayato grimaced as she said this, "but underneath the music, I heard it. There was happiness in your song… and it made me feel happy just listening to it." She began beaming, her smile glowing like the sun, "so, I want to be able to create beautiful music too. I want to learn how to play the piano."

Hayato leaned back against the wall and thought about what she said. He supposed her reason was as good as any. Honestly, he wondered why she bothered telling _him_ of her desire to play the piano. She didn't know him, so his opinion or approval shouldn't matter to her. They were strangers and would probably never meet again after tonight.

So, why did she look at him like it was his opinion she valued the most right now?

Whatever. If she wants to play the piano, he won't stop her.

"Tch. Do what you want. If you really want to learn how to play, go ahead."

Apparently, those words, as careless as they were, were exactly what the girl wanted to hear. A wide smile stretched from cheek to cheek and Hayato was momentarily dazed. She looked so happy and… were those sparkles?

She laughed. "I'll become a great piano player, you just wait."

Hayato rolled his eyes and sipped his water. Sure, the girl was weird, but if she had the resolve to learn the piano and stick with it, maybe she wasn't _that_ bad.

"Tsunayoshi!"

Green eyes glanced up, and from the crowd emerged a tired blond boy wearing a black suit and blue undershirt. The girl, Tsuna, he remembered, spun around to face the newcomer, orange skirts flaring out at the motion. Her brown eyes blinked in surprise, evidently recognizing the boy. "Basil, why are you panting?"

Sure enough, the boy's breathing was a bit heavy and a thin layer of perspiration coated his face. Basil straightened his tie and tried to compose himself. "Boss panicked when he noticed you were gone. He thought you might have wandered off or gotten lost. I've been looking for a while, but could not find you until now," he leaned in towards Tsuna and whispered in what Hayato thought was Japanese, "thou should not have left thine father, especially upon this night."

Tsuna's eyes lifted to meet the Basil's blue ones. A second later, she gave a slight nod, then pouted, shoulders slumping and eyes sliding toward the ground. "I only wanted to speak with one of the pianists from the recital," she murmured.

At this, Basil's eyes slid from Tsuna's dejected form to Hayato. Hayato stiffened as sharp blue eyes studied him, raking over his body from the perfectly polished black loafers to the clean black suit jacket. When Basils eye's momentarily paused on his left hip, Hayato tried to keep calm, but _Basil knew._ Earlier that morning, Hayato swiped one of the kitchen knives and slid it into the waistband of his pants, just in case he needed its protection. Considering his father was a Mafia Boss, Hayato sometimes met some of the more _unscrupulous_ characters in the Underworld. Even though tonight was only a music recital, it had become something of a habit to slip a knife somewhere unnoticeable, to the point where Hayato felt defenseless and weak without one.

Hayato knew he was getting good at keeping the knives hidden on his person, and the fact that Basil managed to spot it made him feel on edge. _Who was he?_

Basil turned back to Tsuna and rested a hand on her shoulder, subtly steering her away from Hayato. "Who is this?" he asked Tsuna.

Tsuna's eyes shifted from Basil to Hayato and must have realized she forgot to introduce them. She stepped forward, away from Basil's hand, and gestured toward Hayato. "Basil, this is Hayato Gokudera." Then she gestured at Basil, "Hayato Gokudera, this is Basil."

Hayato pasted a smile on his face and extended a hand to Basil. The other boy quickly shook his hand, grip tight, before letting go.

Basil nodded in Hayato's direction. "It was nice to meet you, Gokudera, but I'm afraid I have to get Tsunayoshi back to my boss." Basil grimaced, "knowing him, he's likely panicking enough to make a scene."

Hayato gave a polite nod in return, "it was nice to meet you as well," and took a sip of his water.

As Basil began to escort Tsuna away, the girl whipped around and her warm brown eyes landed on Hayato for the last time that night. "I just wanted to say that I hope to be as good of a pianist as you are. And who knows, maybe we can play together some day." Tsuna tossed him one last sunshine smile. "It was nice to get the chance to talk to you, Hayato Gokudera," and was whisked away into the crowd, leaving him to choke on his water. When he managed to stop coughing, Hayato looked into the crowd and saw no sign of Tsuna or Basil.

That girl _really_ needed to stop saying things so unexpectedly.

Hayato sighed and leaned back against the wall. Around him, the reception continued on just the same as it was before a girl in an orange dress tugged at this sleeve, as if the meeting never happened.

If Hayato was being honest with himself, he didn't know what to make of Tsuna or Basil. While he still considered Tsuna to be a strange girl with a strong desire to be a pianist, he didn't know what to make of her friend, Basil. It was obvious to Hayato that the boy had been trained to observe other people and his surroundings, but _why_ would he need that skill if he was just a civilian? Civilians didn't need to constantly check to see if their surroundings are safe, or if a stranger had a weapon hidden somewhere on their person. He could just be paranoid, but his eyes didn't have the mistrustful edge of someone coming from a very damaging environment. Basil could have been a good enough actor to hide it if he had, but Hayato knew there would have been tells to give him away. So, why would Basil feel the need to scan Hayato?

Unless if he was in the Mafia.

Hayato's eyes roved over the room, but he wasn't processing anything he saw. His mind whirred as his thoughts raced. The idea made sense, but if Basil was in the Mafia, then why would Tsuna be so familiar with him?

 _Who was Tsuna?_

Thoughts of the Mafia plagued Hayato as he spent the rest of the night crowd watching from his corner. Sometimes, he thought he saw flashes of orange out dance in and out of the crowd. Whenever he tried to look closer, the orange disappeared, making him wonder if it was just his imagination. All around him, laughter and polite words were exchanged by people he didn't know.

Time passed, he drained his water glass, and his father never found him until the end of the party.

Later that night, when the stars floated in the sky and moonlight illuminated the world, Hayato crept into the music room back at the castle. He sat down on the piano bench and thought about poisoned cooking, about familiar jade eyes, and about duets. Staring at familiar ivory and ebony keys glowing in the moonlight, Hayato let his mind drift.

As far as Hayato could remember, it seemed as if his life revolved around the Mafia. His father was a Mafia Boss, most of the people he interacted with were Mafiosi, and even when he performed at a supposedly civilian recital, the Mafia was still there. Would the Mafia always be a constant presence in his life? Hayato mulled on that thought and wondered if he wanted something different than a life in the Mafia.

In fact, what _did_ he want in life?

The girl, Tsuna, said she wanted to learn how to play the piano to make the people listening feel happy. His sister wanted to make their father proud of her. Even Miss Lavina had once confessed to him on a lazy summer afternoon that her only wish was that those she cared about lived happy and fulfilling lives. Happiness… would finding happiness be his ultimate goal in life?

But what made _him_ happy?

Hayato lightly ran his fingers over the piano keys. Playing the piano with Miss Lavina when he was younger made him happy. He enjoyed her company, her smiles, and the pride he felt whenever he managed to successfully get through a difficult piece. As he got older, after Miss Lavina left him, he still felt happy when he sat down at the piano, but there was a new undertone of melancholy and wistfulness to the feeling. His happiness with the piano continued until he was six—until his father forced him to eat Bianchi's cookies. Now, whenever he played for other people instead of himself, the joy he felt of sharing his music became muted under the feeling of revulsion—

He still loved to play the piano, he didn't know if he would _never_ feel that love, but lately he wondered if there would be a breaking point when he refused to play anymore.

His fingers hovered over the keys—

"Hayato?"

—and he brought his hands to rest on the bench by his hips. "Father? Why are you here so late at night?"

In the shadowed doorway of the music room, a tall figure emerged. Under the moonlight, Hayato noticed his father was still wearing his formal suit from the party. He crossed the room and stood next to Hayato and the piano. In a casual voice, he spoke. "Did you enjoy the recital? I thought it dragged on toward the end. One can only listen to so many performances before they begin to blend together, especially if some of the pieces are repeated."

Hayato wouldn't know what the other musicians did; he was too busy trying to stay coherent to care about what they did.

"However, I did quite enjoy the reception afterward, though the food could have been better. While I mingled with the other patrons I heard some interesting whispers floating through the crowd." He studied Hayato's face before he said his next words. "Apparently, we had quite a few unexpected guests in attendance tonight."

His father never said anything without a reason, so telling _Hayato_ that a few unexpected guests showed up…

He dropped the bomb. "From what I heard, our little music showcase attracted the attention of those from the Vongola."

Hayato stilled.

Anyone in the Underworld knew what the Vongola was. Led by the Ninth Boss and his Guardians, the Vongola was considered to be the most powerful famiglia in the world.

"Why are you telling me this?" Hayato whispered.

His father hummed thoughtfully and contemplated his next words. "For the past few years, there have been rumors that Iemitsu Sawada, the leader of the Vongola's CEDEF, had a daughter. Of course, these rumors had no evidence to back them up. The rumors ended up becoming something of a public secret; Sawada had a daughter, but nobody had ever seen her. Many Famiglias had agents searching for her, but they never succeeded." As Hayato sat on the piano bench and listened to his father, a niggling in the back of his mind gradually grew stronger and Hayato had a funny feeling that he knew where his father was taking this conversation. "Eventually, these rumors began to be ignored as something of a fabrication. A few Mafiosi even began to speculate that the rumor was started by the Vongola to send rival famiglias on a goose chase for something that wasn't there…"

Hayato heard some of the rumors too. Though they were rarely mentioned, anything related to the Vongola was worth remembering.

"…eventually they gave up on hoping to find the Young Lion's child. I even began to think it was all a lie…"

A few pieces slotted into place and Hayato remembered an odd girl in an orange dress professing her desire to learn to play the piano.

"…Until tonight. Iemitsu Sawada attended the recital tonight along with his apprentice and a young girl by the name of Tsunayoshi Sawada."

Suddenly, it clicked in Hayato's brain. He remembered fluffy brown hair and eyes that seemed almost too determined at times. He remembered the maids whispering rumors about Iemitsu _Sawada_ and his nonexistent daughter in passing. Most importantly, he remembered her introduction, _"I think I forgot to introduce myself earlier. My name is Tsunayoshi Sawada, but I like to go by Tsuna"_ ,and why something about it felt familiar.

His father continued speaking, oblivious to Hayato's mental revelation. "At first we weren't sure if it was her. Sawada introduced her as another protégé, saying he found her on the streets and decided to take her in. It was a believable cover, especially considering his other apprentice came from a similar background, but it had flaws." A pause lingered in the air before his father casually asked his next question.

"Hayato, do know what those flaws were?"

It was a rhetorical question, but with his father's eyes trained on him, gleaming in the moonlight, he felt compelled to answer. Silver hair brushed his cheeks as Hayato shook his head negatively.

"He cared too much."

His father's lips pressed together in a frown, but other than that, Hayato couldn't read his face.

"If Sawada had found Tsunayoshi on the streets like he said, he should have felt more comfortable with letting her out of his sight in a safe environment. Tonight was a music recital, not a Mafia event. There shouldn't have been any reason for him to worry, particularly concerning someone he found recently and shouldn't have formed an emotional attachment to yet. It doesn't make sense, unless he was lying about their connection." His father stroked his mustache. "Of course, she still might not be his daughter, but there's a high probability she _is_ , one I don't want to overlook."

His father's posture loosened and he chuckled. A hand raised to comb is hair back, slightly mussing up the strands. "I've been talking for a while, but now do you understand why I am telling you all this?"

Hayato thought about the information his father told him and attempted to connect the dots, voicing the beginnings of an idea he was unsure of whether he wanted to follow, "it has something to do with Tsunayoshi. You want more information on her?"

The other man chuckled. "Something like that. One of my men told me you were talking to a girl at the reception tonight. She had short brown hair and wore an orange dress. I believe she said her name was Tsunayoshi Sawada?"

Hayato's eyes narrowed. So, even when he managed to slip away, he never truly escaped being watched. "Yes?" he ventured.

"It seemed like she was interested in you." The man's posture straightened and his full attention turned toward his son. Whatever he said next was important. "Hayato, if you ever see her again, attempt to gain her trust. Become her _friend_. In the Underworld, there is nothing more important than being on the good side of the Vongola Famiglia. If this girl is your opportunity to accomplish this, become her most trusted ally."

In the end, everything came back to the Mafia. Its lingering shadow had been a constant presence in his life and knew, with as much surety as a seven-year-old possessed, he would likely never escape it.

 _What did he want in life?_

"Do you understand?"

 _But what made him happy?_

Hayato did the only thing he could: he nodded. "Yes, father."

Their eyes connected and silence filled the air. A moment later, his father spoke. "Good." Then he strode from the room, leaving Hayato to sit on the piano bench and stare after him. After a couple of seconds, he turned back to the piano, face blank, and closed his eyes.

For a few minutes, Hayato Gokudera sat in front of the piano and listened to the silence. The world continued to spin on its axis and the stars still twinkled in the night sky, as if nothing had changed. Time plodded on, as it always did, while Hayato took a moment for himself.

Eventually, he opened his mouth and asked, "Miss Lavina, what song should I play next?"

Of course, nobody answered.

* * *

 **Thank you all for reading! Please leave a review to let me know what you liked, disliked, or even just to say hi. Your feedback would mean the world to me and I'd really love to know what you all think of the story so far!**

 **On a side note… Gokudera's piano performance. In canon, Gokudera was fed poison cookies by Bianchi since he was six. His first performance after eating the cookies was…well…not the greatest. However, if he's continuously being fed poison cookies before each performance, a poison tolerance has to have been built up. So, after each time, the poison's effects shouldn't be as strong. And since Gokudera takes playing the piano seriously, I'd like to think the resulting performance a year later would be some combination of skill and disorientation. Thus, his performance isn't completely awful, just… off.**

 **As for this story, I'm really excited to keep writing and see where it goes.**

 **-Cyseria**


	2. Chapter 2

**Finding C Major**

2

. .

* * *

"You know, brat, I didn't teach you how to use knives so you could throw them at walls."

Six months passed since the European music recital and Hayato had long since returned to his routine of studying, lessons, and piano practice. During that time, his father sent out agents and informants to find any information about 'Tsuna Sawada'. After the first month of no positive results, Hayato stopped holding out too much hope in the success of the venture. His father continued the search though, seeming to think the effort spent attempting to find her would be worth it.

Learning there might be some truth to the rumors of the Young Lion's daughter seemed to fuel his father's efforts in trying to locate her. Initially, there had been a frantic sort of energy to the man, lighting his eyes and making him seem _decades_ younger. Hayato suspected it was because of the prospect to forge a connection with the Vongola. As the months dragged on, his father's eyes dulled into an apathetic gray and a frown slipped back onto his face. From what he could tell, based on his father's silence concerning the whole matter, none of the agents managed to bring back even a tiny _scrap_ of information.

If Tsuna _was_ somehow connected to the Vongola like his father thought, then it was understandable how easily she vanished following the recital. If the Vongola didn't want the girl to be found, it would be nearly impossible to find her again. Simple as that.

This didn't stop his father from trying to find her.

Hayato, on the other hand, could care less about the whole matter. While he understood the benefits of having connections to the Vongola, Hayato wasn't looking to purposely make a friendship based on ulterior motives and false promises of warmth. If he happened to run into her again, he'd _try_ to be friendly. But the odds of meeting her again were miniscule.

Right now, though, he had more pressing things to worry about at the moment than a nonexistent friendship—like getting Shamal to leave him alone.

"Are you volunteering to help me with my aim? I needed a new target since I blew up the last one during training."

Hayato punctuated his statement by picking up a knife from the nearby cart and hurling it at the wall across the room. It sailed through the air and impacted the wall with a muted _thud_ , barely missing the center of Hayato's crudely pained target. Five other knives peppered the target at varying distances from the center.

The knives were close to where he had been aiming, so Hayato counted it as a success.

"No," Shamal slouched further into the wingback chair he claimed for himself, "but I don't think the maids will be too pleased to have to repair the wall after your little training session…again."

Much to Shamal's quiet irritation, his student's impromptu knife throwing sessions had become something of a routine lately. Hayato would go to one of the spare sitting rooms scattered throughout the castle, paint a target on the wall, and throw knives. Eventually, Shamal would track down his troublesome student and wait to see if he would explain himself. So far, Hayato stayed quiet as to why he thought the wall would make a nice pincushion. As the incidents became more frequent—even cutting into the allotted dynamite training time—it became clear that whatever bothered his student wasn't going away any time soon.

Honestly, Shamal had better things to do than make sure his student didn't accidentally kill himself. Like convincing that pretty brunette working in the kitchens to visit a recently-opened restaurant in the next town over with him.

Shamal crossed his arms and shot Hayato an unamused look. "Alright, I've let you throw knives for long enough. Something's bothering you and I've got better things to do than play babysitter."

Hayato picked up a knife from the cart and threw it. "What makes you think I have something on my mind?"

Shamal raised a dark eyebrow. "Brat, you've been my student for five years. If I didn't understand what makes you tick by now I'd have to be deaf, blind, or stupid—neither of which I am. You only start mutilating walls with those knives of yours when you're irritated or angry. So, I'm going to ask now you before you end up hurting yourself; what's got you so worked up?"

A pale hand reached down to pick up another knife, then stopped. Green eyes narrowed. After a long moment, Hayato grabbed the knife and took aim at the target. The knife landed with a loud _thud_.

Shamal let out a frustrated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. That stubborn brat. Shamal could usually care less if his student had issues to deal with. Learning to deal with problems on your own was an essential part of becoming a competent human being. Not to mention, it would be practice for situations in the future, when the only person Hayato could rely on for help would be himself. However, the frequent bouts of target practice were starting to become detrimental to his student's growth.

Shamal leaned into his wingback chair, crossed his legs, and assumed a casual pose. This routine needed to end and, as much as he liked the brat, despite the headaches and frustration, Shamal knew he had to switch his tactics. In a deceptively nonchalant voice, he carelessly threw out his next words. Hayato wouldn't be too happy with him, but if it got results, he didn't care.

"I wonder…if Lavina were still here…if she'd be happy that you'd rather throw knives at a wall than learn to protect yourself."

Hayato stiffened. "Don't."

Shamal continued, "you've been skipping bomb training for the past week to go play with your little kitchen toys. You aren't even seriously practicing with them either. You're just tossing them around, not even trying to hit the bullseye." He paused and carefully watched Hayato's reaction.

"It's like you don't even care whether you live or die anymore."

Silver hair whipped his cheeks as Hayato spun around, face contorted in fury. His green narrowed into enraged slits and a small snarl curled at his lips. "I've been training with bombs and knives for five years. If anyone wants to hurt me, I'll be able to protect myself. Don't question if I care whether I live or die because _I. Won't. Die._ " He picked up another knife, whirled around, and lobbed it at the target. The screech of metal scraping against metal cut through the tense silence as the blade hit another knife lodged in the wall. It bounced off and landed with a _thump_ on the carpet.

Apathetic brown eyes watched Hayato glare at the knife on the floor. Shamal tutted. "You shouldn't throw weapons when you're angry."

Hayato pointedly strode toward the wall and began yanking knives out. Each one landed in a clatter on the carpet and soon he stood in front of a hole-riddled wall with a pile of knives at his feet. He reached down, grabbed two knives in each hand, and stalked back to the cart.

The silence stretched into minutes as Shamal watched his student collect the knives, check to make sure the metal wasn't chipped or broken, and set them on the cart. During the process, the tension in Hayato's shoulders gradually loosened and his posture became a bit less rigid. Shamal waited until the final knives were set down before speaking up.

"So then," Shamal drawled, "what's the point of this little temper tantrum? Did you break a knife? Did the maids forget your coffee? Are you having piano frustrations?"

A pause stretched. Then, as if struck by inspiration, Shamal abruptly straightened in the wingback chair and leaned forward. Eyes completely focused on Hayato, Shamal's next words were slow and uncomfortably blunt. "Don't tell me…are you frustrated because you're having girl troubles?"

Hayato's brain shorted out.

That. _No._

An embarrassed flush rose on his pale cheeks when his brain rebooted and finally processed what Shamal suggested. "I'm _not_ having girl troubles," Hayato sputtered. "Where would you even get that idea, you stupid doctor?!"

Shamal scratched at his stubble and gave a thoughtful hum. "I heard you were talking to a girl about six months ago and didn't manage to scare her off. She must have caught your attention if you kept talking to her." He raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "So, is she pretty?"

"She's just some weird girl who randomly decide to talk to me!"

Shamal leaned into the chair and gave Hayato a knowing smile. "It's okay if you're shy about it. I only goaded you on earlier because I thought this was about Lavina again—"

Hayato clenched his fists and growled, " _Shamal._ "

"—But, if that's not the reason, then it makes sense. Although, you seemed a little young to have those thoughts—"

" _Shamal!"_

"—it's perfectly natural and I completely support—"

"I'm not having girl troubles," Hayato exploded.

Silence descended on the sitting room.

Fingernails dug into his palms as Hayato tried to regain his composure. Jade eyes glared at the blank-faced doctor. "I'm not throwing knives because I have _girl troubles_ ," Hayato spat, "or because I'm upset about Miss Lavina."

Shamal leaned back, his fingers tapping on the armrest. "Well, then. Spit it out. What's got you so worked up?"

"No."

"Brat, look. Throwing knives isn't going to solve anything. This has been going on for a _week_ , so obviously nothing's changed. Normally, I wouldn't care. I could just wash my hands of this whole situation and have a _nice_ conversation with one of the new maids. However, instead, I generously decided to help you sort this problem out before you maimed yourself with knives or bombs. I don't want my troublesome student to die such a disappointing death—and I wouldn't heal you; you know I don't treat men. So now, I want you to explain what has you so worked up."

Silence. "Well?"

Hayato sharply exhaled and forced himself to calm down. As reluctant as Hayato was to admit it, Shamal was right. He was getting reckless. He knew his accuracy with the knives would be much better if he actually focused on what he was doing and not the thoughts buzzing in his mind. Although Shamal neglected to say anything remotely helpful during training, the doctor _was_ smarter than he looked and could be serious if the occasion called for it. Maybe.

Tch. _Fine._

"Father assigned me my first mission."

A pause. "Okay? I don't see how this is a bad thing. Sure, you're inexperienced—

"I'm meeting an informant," Hayato interrupted, "and Alessio is coming with."

"…Ah."

Hayato's frustration and agitation began a week ago when he was called to his father's office. He had just finished dynamite practice with Shamal; the evidence showed in his singed sleeves, tousled hair, and sweaty face. Exhaustion dragged on his bones, and Hayato wanted nothing more at that moment than a nice shower and a change of clothes. However, the messenger said it was urgent, so Shamal shoved Hayato out the door with the customary "goodbye, brat" and left Hayato to trudge to his father's office alone.

As far as he knew, nothing had changed drastically enough to warrant the sudden meeting.

For as long as Hayato could remember, being the Boss' son, a parade of private tutors flowed in and out of the castle, providing him with a top-notch education in subjects ranging from chemistry to battle strategy. He soaked up the offered knowledge like a sponge, leading to titles like ' _genius_ ' and ' _prodigy_ ' being thrown around in hushed whispers when nobody thought he was listening. Hayato didn't miss his tutors' subtle compliments during lessons, so his academic progress was adequate enough. Shamal generally made offhand comments about 'poor technique' and 'being more confident' during combat practice, which, _sadly_ , was Shamal's way of saying Hayato's skills were decent enough. So, there shouldn't be any complaints on that front. Likewise, he hadn't made any drastic, noteworthy leaps in improvement either.

He had been doing fine—excellent, even. So, what had changed?

No matter, he'd find out soon enough. The large door of his father's office loomed over his small form. Taking a breath, Hayato raised a heavy fist to knock on the sturdy wood. A muffled voice called, "enter," and Hayato did just that.

His father sat behind an enormous desk, draped in shadows with a pen in hand. The lone window, a tiny thing situated high on the wall behind his father, let only a meagre amount of light in. Hayato suspected the size and the placement served to dissuade any would-be assassins. A tiny desk lamp didn't help drive away the darkness lurking between bookshelves and cabinets, but it did illuminate the sharp angles of his father's face, making his visage appear more austere and imposing.

"Ah, Hayato. Please, sit down." His father waved a dismissive hand at the cushioned chair sitting opposite of the desk. Hayato glanced at the man and took a seat. A vase of wilted chrysanthemums sat on his father's desk. Gross. "Has Shamal told you why I called you here?"

Hayato hid his confusion behind a scowl. "No, he didn't tell me anything. Why? Was it important?"

"Ah, it doesn't matter now," the older man dismissed.

Well, _that_ certainly helped answer Hayato's questions. Not.

"What do you think of your progression under Shamal's tutelage?"

Hayato became apprehensive. His father already received reports from Shamal, reports dissecting Hayato's ability and catching mistakes Hayato wasn't skilled enough to spot yet. His father, the Boss, already had more than enough information to grasp the situation and make a well-informed decision. So, why would Hayato's opinion matter?

What was this meeting for?

Silver eyebrows furrowed as Hayato strung a response together. "My accuracy with dynamite and knives at varying distances has improved greatly and Shamal has told me that my reaction time is decent. In addition to my offensive training, I've been practicing with situational and environmental awareness as well. At my current training level, I believe my skill level is more than adequate." The absent words flowed off his tongue, repeated from textbooks, lectures, and compliments about _how skilled he was for someone his age_ and _why_ everything he was learning was so important. As if Hayato wasn't smart enough to realize it himself.

His father nodded, almost as if receiving confirmation from Hayato's words.

"You've been training under Shamal for almost five years now. From his assessment, he deems you competent enough to handle yourself when faced with a threat. After some thought, I've decided that you're ready for your first mission as a member of this Family."

Hayato felt a sort of numb shock spread though his body. There had been some sort peripheral awareness of the eventuality of this moment—why else would he receive offensive training if not to be useful to the Famiglia—but he never expected to be assigned his first mission so soon. Or, rather, he shoved the thought to the back of his mind and ignored the ticking clock counting down to what he knew was unavoidable. He lived in a Mafia Famiglia. He couldn't live in the content routine of his life so far forever.

"Now, you'll be working with Alessio." The look Hayato's father leveled him spoke of hard steel and an immovable will. "I hope this will not be a problem or interfere with the mission?"

The still shock in Hayato's mind lifted and gave birth to a storm of chaos.

Something—wild and angry and _raging_ —in the back of his mind screamed that his father hadn't, _couldn't possibly_ have said Alessio. Perhaps it was a slip of the tongue, a misspoken name. The much larger, logical portion assured him it most definitely _was not_ a mistake. Alessio was accompanying him on his first mission. Hayato's blood simmered.

 _Why?_

He took a deep breath. He still had to finish this meeting. The scent of stale tobacco smoke and artificial lemons tickled his nose. "No, it will not be a problem," he lied.

"Good. You'll meet Alessio next Thursday at the front courtyard; a car should arrive for both of you there. You have a week to prepare for your mission, so I expect you to use this time wisely, yes?"

Hayato felt small under the other man's firm gray eyes. The vase of dying flowers looked to be an inch away from falling off his father's desk. He wanted to push it over the edge.

"Yes, sir."

 _Why Alessio?_

"…and that's a bad thing?" Shamal probed.

Hayato blinked and shoved the memory aside. "What?"

"I didn't think you would get so worked up over _this_."

Short fingernails dug into Hayato's palms.

"A courier mission is an easy way to get experience. All you have to do is show up, get the information, and return here without dying along the way. This mission doesn't directly place you in a combat situation, so, unless you're going to be ambushed, you don't have to worry about being maimed or injured."

Hayato remained silent.

"This isn't about the mission, is it?"

"Not entirely."

"Of course it's Alessio," Shamal muttered. "Brat, despite the… _conflict—_ " Hayato snorted. Conflict was a nice way of labelling that particular mess of a relationship "—between you and Alessio, he is a loyal member of the Famiglia. Whatever problems there are between you two, he knows better than to allow you to get yourself killed. He can put personal feelings aside for the sake of a mission, so, Hayato, can you do him the respect of doing the same?"

Sunlight glinted off the knives on the cart. Shamal wouldn't let this go until Hayato agreed. Although he was skeptical of the doctor's words, he couldn't bring himself argue. The mission date was fast approaching and he wanted to believe Shamal was telling the truth. If Alessio could put the mission first, so could he. Hayato grimaced. "Fine."

Shamal stood up and rolled his shoulders. "Well, I'm glad _that's_ over. You know, brat, you worry too much. Try to loosen up a little. I don't know _what_ you do for fun around here—I've only ever seen you reading or practicing." He scratched his stubble and glanced at Hayato. "Your birthday is coming up soon, isn't it? A party is the perfect place to play nice with the other kids. Go make some friends." A lewd grin stretched across his face. "Maybe you could even find a nice girl to chat with."

"I'm only seven, you perverted doctor!"

Shamal merely shrugged. "You'll come around eventually." He sauntered to the door. "By the way," Shamal threw out over his shoulder, "you should stop stealing knives from the kitchens. I know you have a set of throwing knives that would work much better than those unbalanced kitchen tools. Plus, it's not polite to make the lovely ladies in the kitchens worry over something as petty as missing cutlery. A true gentleman wouldn't cause women distress."

Hayato impulsively grabbed a knife and flung it at the doctor. It cut through the air and landed about half a meter from where Shamal's head would have been. The doctor's lazy voice floated through the closed door.

"Goodbye, brat. Oh, and work on your aim."

* * *

The day of his first mission arrived far too quickly, in Hayato's opinion.

Standing in the courtyard, Hayato let loose a loud yawn. With the sun barely breaking the horizon, it felt far too early in the morning. He spent the previous night tossing and turning, trying to get some sleep before morning came. Hayato had learned, through painful training sessions with Shamal after one too many nights spend reading instead of sleeping, a tired Mafioso was a dead Mafioso. Along with having less energy, reaction times would be shot to hell and mental capabilities would be severely dampened. Hayato knew the importance of getting an adequate amount of sleep. Despite his efforts, though, his mind wouldn't shut up and settle down.

As much as he tried not to think of it, his mind had kept drifting back to the mission.

Despite all his training, despite it only being a courier mission, Hayato couldn't help the small sliver of worry curling inside his stomach. What were the odds they would be ambushed? Hayato heard stories, whispers between maids, of easy missions gone wrong and bloody massacres. It only took a stronger opponent, a second of inattention— No. He trained for this. He was strong and capable. He had to be. If anybody thought he was weak, well, Hayato's dynamite would change their opinions pretty quickly. Although, he remembered watching men return to the castle missing fingers, limbs, lives— It felt like hours before he finally dozed off.

He would give anything for some damn caffeine.

Crunching gravel alerted Hayato to someone approaching from behind. He turned around and couldn't help the small sneer to curling at his lips.

His father, wearing a simple suit and loafers, took slow steps, reveling in the crisp air and quiet atmosphere the morning brought. Another man kept pace with him. It was this second man, with long limbs and smooth grace, who drew Hayato's complete attention. He kept a deceptively relaxed posture and, when combined with the dark pants, black hair, and alert golden eyes, reminded Hayato of a panther on the prowl.

 _Alessio._

Sharp, frigid eyes pinned Hayato and he returned the stare with a scowl of his own. His muscles tensed and he kept a stiff, straight back. This man would not find a fault in him. Hayato would _not_ be weak, damn it.

Hayato's father stopped a short distance away and a small, rare smile twitched under his moustache. "Good morning, Hayato."

Hayato grunted. "Morning."

"For this assignment, you both will be meeting a man called Canary. Alessio, I've already told you the location and other particulars, so feel free to inform Hayato as well."

Alessio nodded. "I will."

"Hayato, for the duration of this assignment, you will defer to Alessio in all decisions. He has more knowledge and experience to ensure the mission will be successful. No matter your thoughts or opinions, if he orders you to do something, you will obey."

A sleek, gray car rumbled up the driveway, growing closer by the second. His father watched Hayato with steady gray eyes, expecting compliance. Even Alessio's attention focused on Hayato's response, despite knowing Hayato could only say one thing.

"Yes, sir," Hayato ground out.

"Excellent." Seeing his business finished, Hayato's father turned around and walked away.

Faced with an idling car and Alessio, Hayato realized he didn't want to go on the mission. He didn't want to meet some random man called Canary. He didn't want to think about the possibility of being ambushed, no matter what Shamal said about it being unlikely. As the sun rose higher in the sky, waking up the world with its comforting warmth, Hayato knew the afternoon would be perfect for curling up in a windowsill and reading a book. One of his chemistry tutors loaned him a book talking about the difference between ionic and covalent bonds and he was itching to finish it.

Hayato _especially_ didn't want to be stuck in a car with Alessio. Memories washed over Hayato of cold eyes and colder words. Nearly eight years of knowing the man and Hayato had never _once_ heard anything nice come out of his mouth. He didn't like Hayato and the feeling was mutual. Hayato would be happy to never see the man ever again, but no matter what he did, what he wished, he couldn't ignore Alessio forever...

Emerald eyes watched Alessio stalk to the car, not sparing him a single glance.

...because Alessio was Hayato's cousin...

"During this mission, you'd better keep up with me, or I _will_ leave you behind."

...and his father's heir.

* * *

 **So…it's been a while since the last update. I'm sorry it took so long. Hopefully the next update won't take five months *cringes*. Anyways…**

 **I'm absolutely shocked by the amount of interest in the story so far. Thank you so much to everyone who favorited, followed, reviewed, or even thought that the first chapter looked interesting enough to read. I'm happy you all like it so far.**

 **I probably should have mentioned this earlier, but I'm interested in exploring cause-and-effect in this story. Some events happened prior to the first chapter and we're only seeing the effects now (ex. Hayato's different outlook on the Mafia and Tsuna's presence in Italy). How these events affect Hayato and Tsuna…we'll get to that eventually.**

 **One thing that really bugged me: if Hayato's father was a Mafia boss, then who was the heir? Well, here's my answer.**

 **Thoughts? Opinions? Feel free to constructively criticize me!**

 **-Cyseria**


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